Arnaud, a man of letters, and a dramatic writer, had, before the revolution, enjoyed a small place about the person of the present king. During the revolution he was understood to have embraced its principles, but with out violence, and he continued to be more known in a literary than political capacity. In the former character, he procured the patronage of Buona parte, and obtained a high place in the University of Paris. On the first restoration of the Bourbons, this place was suppressed; but he obtained in compensation for it a considerable pension. This, however, did not afford him satisfaction, and, on the return of Buonaparte, he displayed an enthusiastic zeal in his cause, which caused him in 1815 to be included in the list of exiles. He withdrew into Belgium, where he employed himself in literary composition, and partly, as was alleged, in composing some of the numerous anti-royalist pamphlets with which Paris was inundated. However, he produced a tragedy, called Germanicus, which was judged to pos. sess considerable merit, and to be superior to any of his former dramatic efforts. The managers of the Theatre Français were therefore induced to submit it to be licensed for representation. A considerable suspense prevailed in the ministerial councils, and the question as to the expediency of this permission was a subject of eager debate in society. At length it was determined to allow the representation. According to some, M. Decazes was inclined thus to mortify the princes, who shewed an undisguised enmity towards himself, and all who bore any

leaning towards liberal principles; but it seems more probable that government were merely willing to give this mark of their liberality, and confidence in the nation. The king himself was said to have read and admired the piece, and, partly influenced, perhaps, by former recollections, to have been willing to extend this favour to the author. It seems, indeed, scarcely possible, that, knowing the ordeal through which the piece was to pass, the author should have purposely introduced any political application; but this consideration weighed little with a public, predetermined to consider Germanicus as Napoleon, and Tiberius as Louis. A general ferment prevailed in Paris, and, on the evening of representation, every thing announced, not so much the first appearance of a tragedy, as the approach of a great political event. The entrance was besieged by a crowd five or six times what the theatre could contain; the carriage of an ultra-royalist actress was with difficulty allowed to pass, and prognostics of tumult were afforded, by a number of stout canes, under the title of batons a la Germanicus, being exposed for sale. The doors being opened, the crowd rushed in with the utmost fury. Part of the pit was already occupied on one side by officers of the guards, who put themselves forward as the champions of ultra-royalism, and on the other by a band of unemployed half-pay officers, devoted to the name and cause of Napoleon. The representation, however, proceeded with wonderful tranquillity, it being only observed that the friends of the piece expressed their admiration rather by screams and convulsions, than by the usual temperate plaudits. At length came the anxiously expected crisis. It is customary, in the French theatre, at the end of a successful piece, to call for the name of the author; and the announce. ment, amid thunders of applause, of a

proscribed name, appeared to the enemies of the present government as a signal triumph. Talma advanced to pronounce the name, when an officer of the guards, who was seated in the pit, uttered a loud hiss, and drew his sabre. He was immediately attacked by several of the opposite party; and the pit was instantly converted into a field of battle, where nothing could be seen but canes in the air, playing furiously on each other. After a short conflict, the Buonapartists remained masters of the pit; but their triumph was not of long duration. A band of gendarmerie, prepared for the occasion, rushed in from the stage, and with pointed bayonets soon succeeded in overawing the malcontents. Talma then, by direction of the Dukes de Belluno and Aumont, announced that the author wished to be anonymous; which aided in restoring quiet, though a voice exclaimed, "The news then must have come by telegraph." The audience at last separated in tranquillity; but Paris, on the following day, continued still in a state of violent fermentation. A number of challenges were given, arising out of the scuffle of the preceding night. In the forenoon, five or six hundred officers of the guards repaired to the garden of the Tuilleries, the usual promenade of the Buonapartists, where, making the air resound with cries the most insulting to that party, they evidently courted a contest. Before, however, the affair had come to any voies de fait, some of the superior officers ran out and prevailed upon them to retire; otherwise fresh outrages must have taken place beneath the very walls of the palace. The repetition of the piece was prohibited, which, though it at first excited discontent, prevented the recurrence of similar commotions; and the violent tumult excited by this trivial circumstance gradually subsided.

It

The royal guards, having been organized for the security of the throne, and of counteracting the influence of a great military system supposed hostile to it, had of course been studiously composed of the most zealous loyalists. They had chosen, however, to manifest their zeal in a manner so turbulent, as by no means accorded with the views of government. Yet the re straints put upon their violent pro ceedings, excited indignation in these proud spirits; a number of the officers resigned, and an entire company was broken for insubordination. At length, from this supposed focus of loyalty, there issued a conspiracy of the most daring and treasonable character. was directed against the princes, whose union with the ultra-royalist party, and the general violence of their political conduct, had rendered them very unpopular. It appears that the plot was confined to the privates of one regiment, and that they even failed in their attempt to gain over some halfpay officers of the ex-Imperial Guard. The ringleaders, Desbans and Chayouse, were tried and condemned to death, which they met with an enthusi astic fortitude that might have adorned a better cause. Chayoux, on being informed that he was struck off from the legion of honour, and being requi red to deliver up the insignia of the order, tore off the ribbon and cross, and swallowed them; while Desbans, after permission obtained, gave the word "fire" to the soldiers who were to execute the sentence.

After this alarm had ceased, others were excited in consequence of the disturbed state of some of the provin ces. The scantiness of the late harvest, with the stagnation of all the branches of industry, gave rise to sufferings, which made the minds of the people easily roused into discontent. At St Jean Pied de Port, on the Spanish border, some persons, during the

night, removed all symbols of loyalty from the interior of the church and the top of the steeple, and substituted in their place the tricolor emblems. They were arrested, however, and the affair proceeded no farther. Partial armed assemblages took place in different parts of the country, particular ly in the neighbourhood of Lyons. In this focus of disturbance, a plot with extensive ramifications had been formed, and commenced with the assassina tion of general officers of the legion of the Yonne. The attempt, however, was baffled, and fifty of the conspirators arrested. The troops generally remained steady, and the disturbances were, in every instance, promptly suppressed. As the approach of a favourable season caused a reduction in the necessaries of life, a general return of tranquillity took place.

Notwithstanding these partial disturbances, the general confidence in the stability of the French government was not shaken. The facility with which they had been suppressed,

and the steadiness of the troops, served rather to make a display of its strength. The king continued openly attached to the moderate or constitutional party. The introduction of St Cyr into the ministry, the favour shewn to Davoust, and the friendly intercourse maintained with the Duke of Orleans, seemed even to mark an increase of this disposition. Government could announce, that they had succeeded in negociating a fresh loan of three millions, and that a treaty was on foot for the reduction of another fifth of the army of occupation. The elections, in which it was observed that the crown did not materially interfere, terminated generally in favour of the moderate royalists; and, before the end of the year, affairs wore generally a favourable and prosperous aspect.

The Chambers met in the beginning of November; but, in order to give a connected view of the session, we shall delay till the succeeding volume entering upon any part of their proceedings.

THE kingdoms of Europe, during the present year, enjoyed, generally speaking, an apparent outward tranquillity. The seeds, however, of future commotion and revolution, were silently taking root. It is to the conduct of their rulers, we suspect, that the growth of these brooding discontents may be greatly ascribed. Considering the advanced state of knowledge in the middle states of Europe, and the examples of freedom in their immediate vicinity, it appears probable, that no throne can there rest on a stable foundation, which does not connect itself with some well-arranged representative system. We ought not to be too rigid in our demands from kings. The desire of power is the strongest passion in the mind of man, and sovereign power the highest object of his ambition. To expect that a monarch should spontaneously surrender a large portion of his prerogative, is requiring perhaps too much from human frailty; and a people must generally calculate upon having to work out by their own efforts any essential addition to the sum

of public liberty. The princes of Europe, however, stood now in a peculiar situation with respect to their people. When trodden under foot by the iron sceptre of France, they had called upon them for unheard of efforts, adding a solemn pledge, that a free, and even liberal constitution, would follow success. The people obeyed the call, and, at the price of its own blood, which flowed in torrents, replaced them on their throne. Deep guilt was therefore incurred, in the forfeiture of a pledge so solemnly given, and so dearly paid for. The only thing which seems to have been urged in their defence, is founded on the allegation that these countries contained some rash

and desperate spirits, who looked much farther than to the establishment of a limited monarchy. That, in every country where men habitually reason on political subjects, some such speculators will exist, can readily be believed; but in the formation of a new system, ample means surely existed of providing against their ascendancy. The sovereign, from whom every thing was, in

the first instance, to emanate, could easily impose such qualifications of property and intelligence, as would have secured the predominance of a class, who could have no view or interest separate from the preservation of public order. If, according to the views now given, the irresistible tide of human affairs must ultimately lead to the establishment of representative governments, it cannot be stopped by any temporary success of a despotic confederacy. It will be a short-sighted and fatal policy, which seeks to secure the throne by an entire and unqualified adherence to the system of absolute power. The enforced outward tranquillity which this may for a time secure, will be the prelude to a violent and destructive tempest. The longer the stream is pent up, with the more force will it overflow its banks, and sweep all before it. The sovereign who thus refuses to grant to his subjects a single privilege till he feels the sword at his breast, will at last be made to experience, not a moderate and rational change, but a violent and total revolution, which will leave him only the name of king.

Among all the examples of obligations of a sovereign to his people, none equalled that due from Ferdinand of Spain, to a nation which had done and suffered in his cause such unheard of things. Never monarch ascended the throne under more grateful auspices. The Spanish nation, though circum. stances had prevented any stipulation for a representative system, had certainly earned their right to it in the fullest manner. We do not say that Ferdinand was bound to recognize the Cortes exactly as it stood: that body, having formed itself and the constitution in the absence of the king, and to a great extent of the aristocracy, had shewn to the rights of those bodies less regard than was due to them, and than was probably compatible with

the actual state of society and political feeling in Spain. When, therefore, the king published a proclamation, dissolving the Cortes, and promising one differently constituted, the acquiescence of the nation was complete and universal. Ferdinand had thus the oppor tunity, by granting a moderately free constitution, to satisfy all the rational classes of his subjects, and establish his throne on the firmest basis. Bad omens, however, soon arose, when he was seen throwing into the depth of dungeons the wisest statesmen of Spain, and the men who had fought and bled in his cause nor was it long of appearing evident, that all idea of assembling any cortes was altogether illusory. The Spaniards had then just ground for discontent, and for considering the ties which bound them to their monarch as loosened. It became even, somewhat hastily, a subject of reproach, that they should pay this tranquil and unqualified submission to a monarch so unworthy to rule. The smothered flame, however, manifested its existence by violent occasional eruptions, among which none were more remarkable than those that occurred at the commencement of the present year.

Valencia was the first scene of commotion. The people had been disgusted by the haughty conduct of Elio, the governor; and their discontents were heightened by the imposition of a duty on charcoal, the proceeds of which went to maintain in pomp a mean favourite of the king. On the evening of the 15th of January, these dispositions suddenly ripened into tumult. As the governor was passing along the street, he was attacked by a band of 70 or 80, partly soldiers and partly private individuals, and with difficulty escaped into the fortress with a few attendants. A general rising of the people immediately followed; and the military, declaring partly for, and partly against them, a fierce conflict en